The puzzling affair of Baker street comprehensive
by clarrie
Summary: new chapter added- I couldn't sleep, someone on a mailing list made a joke. Basically this is Holmes, Watson, Russell et all in a modern UK 'high' school. Deeply silly, and reassuringly unromantic.
1. The puzzling affair of Baker street comp...

_This is just a bit of silliness inspired by a joke on the RUSS-L list recently. Characters from the Canon/Kanon relocated to a modern day secondary school. _

**The Puzzling Affair of Baker Street Comprehensive**

It was a fifth form common room like any other fifth form common room, walls patchworked by posters of bands and actors whose momentary rise to fame had been followed by a rather more prolonged fall into oblivion. An aura of pheromones and illicit tobacco hung heavily in the air; a sticky film of discarded and decaying crisps and chewing gum coated every surface.

In an ill lit corner of this dingy little room the best young hope for the future, encased in a rugby kit splattered with the product of the product of three weeks of rain and two hours of rugby practise, hung upside down from a low cushioned seat and discoursed with his companion upon the matters of the day...  
''And then, then there was this green thing and it jumped out of the bushes and was all like 'WAAAAA' and Buffy was kind of, running - But she had on these heels and stuff so everything was sort of jiggling and - well I forgot what happened then but at the end she got this axe and...'' Watson paused to mine a remembered chocolate bar from his top pocket. ''Did you watch it at all?''  
''I'm afraid I did not have that particular pleasure.'' Without looking up from his book, Holmes stretched out his hand for a share in the foodstuff. ''I spent my evening studying. A piece from the end without your spit on it if you will, Watson.''  
''Studying? Oh God, Oh God, Holmes - Double Science! We've got a test in...''  
''Studying a series of statistics regarding weather and it's effect upon criminal behaviour. I am uninterested in the study of the noble gases and their properties at the present time Watson. The arbitrary requirements of the nationalised testing scheme are no concern of mine. Now -'' Holmes, stretched full length on the floor and turned a page casually, ''you spoke of jiggling...''

''You know, I sometimes think that these detentions are more of a punishment for me than for them.'' Sighed Martha Hudson [home economics] as she sank wearily into the badly repaired armchair and opened a Tupperware box of sandwiches. ''Anyone got anything to swap for cheese?''  
''I'll give you three ham and pickle, two weeks worth of photocopying time and a month's biscuit money if you'll take 5B period six.'' James Moriarty [maths - higher] hunched over the kettle miserably. ''My first born child too if it'll clinch the deal.''  
''Hey!'' Patricia Dunleavy-Moriarty [maths - first year special needs] lifted her head from her marking and scowled at her father. ''Just because you're in a mood.''  
''Bad day?'' Martha excepted the proffered mug of tea, but having little use for a hereditary maths tutor signified her unwillingness to cover for the afternoon lessons. ''Let me guess, the new girl?''

''Prepare yourself, Watson. The unholy Dyad advances.''  
''I...Holmes that's a dreadful thing to -oof!'' Watson flopped to one side as he tried to rearrange himself into a more usual sitting position to greet the two girls. ''Hello Mary, Violet.''  
''Budge up, dozey.'' Mary Morstan dropped her backpack onto the threadbare settee and gave Watson a peck on the cheek. ''So what have you two been talking about then - sit down Vi, he won't bite.''  
''Not if you paid me.'' Muttered Holmes blackly, lifting himself from his horizontal position and folding his legs beneath him. ''We have been discussing matters far beyond the understanding of the female mind, Miss Morstan. I wouldn't expect you to understand.''  
''Jiggling, _again?_'' Mary sifted through her backpack. "Well we've had a very productive morning, Have you got my hairbrush Vi? Vi? Oh sit down for God's sake, tell them what we've been doing."  
" 'k," Violet Hunter blushed and perched on the edge of the seat. "H'llo Sh'ck."  
Holmes glared darkly, "Oh please, do tell us how you spent your morning." He drawled sarcastically. "I'm sure it was simply fascinating."  
"_Holmes_ - Go on Mary, what happened this morning?"  
"We had classes with the new girl. Didn't we Vi?"  
" 'ss."  
" Alert the press at once."  
Watson frowned at Holmes' rampaging sarcasm. "So what's she like then? This new girl?"  
'She's a bit weird, meant to be dead clever, she'd been skipped a year apparently and Mary said...'  
'Holder, Frazer, Maberley, or Browner?' Interrupted Watson.  
'Sutherland, well she said that she was in some sort of explosion or something and now she's living with her aunt. Her name's Mary too by the way.'  
'The aunt?'  
'The new girl, Mary Russell.'  
'Because by God this school needs another Mary...'

'That girl is an abomination.' Moriarty blew the steam from his tea and glowered into the liquid. 'Questions! All the time, and never listens, all through form room. Honestly, she's worse than...'  
'_Sherlock Holmes..._ Really James, I'll never understand why you get so irritated about them. They're all perfect lambs in my classes.' Trilled Irene Adler [music and theatre studies] ' Still, Maths must be so very dull for the children I suppose...'  
'Well, Reenie dear,' Sneered Moriarty, 'It's unfortunate that we can't all have your natural assets'  
'You'd have needed more than a good pair of lungs to keep his attention, Jim.' Chuckled Margie Childe [religious education] into her tea as Ms Adler blushed and stormed away haughtily. 'What was it he told you? Beyond trigonometry and arithmetic he had no need for the impracticalities of mathematics.'  
'Isn't he young Mycroft's brother?' Martha Hudson chewed her sandwich contemplatively. 'I had him - Mycroft that is, not the brother - in one of my GCSE classes. Would have got a good mark too if he'd ever bothered to do his homework properly. Didn't take it at A-level either of course, they never do...I'm sorry Jim, you were saying about the new girl?'  
'Young Russell?' Barked Miss Ruskin [history] peering over her newspaper from the depths of her armchair. 'Good chap, doesn't take any nonsense, knows her own mind and sticks up for herself if anyone tries to tell her different.' A rumble of low laughter issued from behind the tent of newsprint. 'Been losing arguments to children again, eh Jim?'  
'My dear ladies,' sighed Moriarty mournfully, 'Teenagers are not _children._ They are, quite simply, Satan's minions, set upon this earth to devise new methods with which they may drive those misguided enough to choose the teaching profession into an early grave.'

'I am bored, Watson.' Holmes lay on his back and dripped Tango into his mouth. 'Really, really, really...'  
'Yes, bored.' Echoed Mary Morstan, flicking a bottle-top playfully at his head. 'We get that.'  
Holmes dodged the bottle-top and countered with a dampened paper missile of his own. 'Well, don't just sit there then. Dance for my amusement, monkey-girl.'  
'No one's dancing for anyone's amusement, Holmes.' Watson rubbed at his forehead where the off-course projectile had hit. 'The end of lunch bell just went anyway,' The quartet rose to their feet, 'So we better be...'  
'EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!' A blood curdling shriek split the air in the corridor outside the room. It came again. 'EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!'  
'What on earth was that?' Watson turned to watch Holmes dart through the door; there was a dull thud as Violet Hunter's mistimed swoon landed her on the floor, her intended target already having reached the location of the screams.

Holmes began to examine the locker door as it hung uneasily on its hinges. 'Obviously forced open, no mystery there, oh, this is very suggestive, the door was forced...'  
'From above which would imply that the - Yes?' A large pair of glasses and a blond frizz stared up at Holmes whose mouth hung open in surprise. 'You were about to say something? Or aren't you able to breathe through your nose?'  
Holmes stared down his, unquestionably obstruction free, nose. 'Excuse me?'  
'Why, what've you done?'  
'I - Wha?' Spluttered Holmes, 'Watson! Remove this.'  
Watson stepped forward and placed his hand on the girl's shoulder. ''Scuse us, he wants to do the investigating thing, you know, stuff. If you don't mind?'  
'I flipping well do mind!' The skinny girl shook him off irritably. 'I've got just as much of a right to...'  
'You boy! What's going on here?' Sebastian Moran [Physical education] dashed into the corridor and placed a restraining arm on Watson and Holmes. 'You two, what are you up to now?'  
'Elsie Patrick Sir, her locker, sir,' mumbled Watson, 'Been broken into Sir, we were just...'  
'You were just nothing, Watson, away!' Moran placed himself in front of the locker and turned to the ill-matched pair sulking to his side. 'You two, too,' he barked uncertainly, 'There's far too much nosiness in this school. Get gone!'

'And what on earth do you think you're playing at?' Hissed Holmes as they were ushered away from the crime scene. 'Who do you think you are anyway?'  
'I'll tell you who you are.' The girl stepped back angrily, her hands on her hips. 'You are the younger of two sons, You play a string instrument, probably the violin. From the, frankly misguided, way you have tied your tie and your non-uniform blazer it would seem that you think of yourself as something of a rebel, the fact remains however that you clearly tuck your shirt into your underpants.' She peered disconcertingly over her glasses. 'From the facial resemblance, and the fact that Mr Moran addressed him as 'Watson', I would also propose that your friend too is the younger of at least two brothers. The elder being the rather irritating sixth former who insisted on referring to me as 'little dude' in the canteen and is undoubtedly busying himself behind the bike-sheds killing off what little brain cells remain even as we speak.' She paused for breath. 'You are arrogant, believe yourself to be above the majority of the people you meet, and confuse bad manners and plain rudeness with social sophistication. Oh, and you have a fondness for fizzy orange drink. Your name remains unknown to me, but I believe that I have addressed all of the pertinent points.'  
'There I have the advantage!' Holmes flared his nostrils. 'From the fact that your face is unknown to both myself, Watson and Moran yet Monkey girl-'  
'Hey!'  
'- appears about to wet herself in excitement I can feel safe in assuming that you would be Mary Russell, the new girl. From your diminutive stature in combination with relative length of your limbs I conclude that you have yet to benefit from the growth spurt which will allow you to safely use grown up furniture.' He sneered. 'The bossy mannerisms and somewhat lacking social skills place you as either an only child or an elder of a pair separated either by divorce or some other misfortune. You read Hebrew, amongst other things, and have read from a very young age in poor light, as a result you are severely myopic. You live with a female who, although a relative clearly does not care enough for you to tell you to use lipstick, or a shampoo with a conditioner.' Holmes thrust his jaw out angrily. 'From this behaviour I can only conclude that it is from her that you have inherited your unbalanced nature. You are nosy, intolerably rude, and totally lacking in respect for other people's territory.'  
'And whose territory am I invading _exactly?_' snorted Russell  
'Not that it's any of your business, but my name is Sherlock Holmes.'  
'Sherlock!' Russell laughed out loud. 'What kind of a stupid name is Sherlock?'  
'Well - well what kind of a -' Stumbled Holmes, reddening, 'Well you smell like spam!'  
Russell screwed up her face in puzzlement as Holmes stormed away, with Watson and Morstan trailing after him. 'Um, Excuse me? I do not.'

**To be continued - if I can be bothered - and am in a silly mood again any time soon - so don't hold your breath - unless of course you want to - in which case [you're babbling. Ed] **


	2. The puzzling affair of Baker street comp...

  
_This is just a bit of silliness inspired by a joke on the RUSS-L list recently. It's characters from the Canon/Kanon relocated to a modern secondary school. Um, it's clearly less than faithful to the originals..._  


**The Puzzling Affair of Baker Street Comprehensive: Part deux.**

'But of course the really odd thing,' Watson nibbled distractedly at his pen and stared into the distance as Morstan took down the lesson notes beside him. 'The really odd thing, was that we examined the locker and -' 

'Nothing had been taken?' Veronica stared at her friend. 'Cool!'  
'It's not at all,' Russell frowned, following the problem as the teacher scrawled it across the blackboard, 'it's very frustrating, the thing had been absolutely ransacked but - oh 180o sir - she says nothing was taken...'

'Nothing - you've forgotten to carry the one, John - at all?'  
'Oh, thanks.' Watson made the necessary adjustment to his ink stained and bedraggled exercise book. 'No, nothing, it's very odd indeed - Oh!'  
'What? What's the matter?'  
'Mobile went off.' Watson grinned sheepishly as he extracted his mobile phone from his inner pocket, and shielding it from the teacher's view began to read the incoming text message.  
  
** 'COME @ 1CE IF CONV'N'NT. IF INCONV'N'NT COME ALL THE SAME.'**  
'It's Holmes.'  
Morstan frowned. 'Shouldn't he be in English now?'  
'Evidently he thinks not,' Watson grabbed his bag and held his hand in the air. 'Sir, may I be excused?'  


'And of course there was that piece of paper - where's he going?' Whispered Russell as Watson crept from the classroom. 'He knows something!'  
'He's probably just going to the loo,' Veronica Beaconsfield peered at Russell's work book, 'Mary, what on earth have I done here, this won't come right.'  
'You've muddled your cosine formula.' Russell pencilled in a brief correction, 'Ronnie?' She flipped the pages of her textbook nonchalantly. 'Have you got a spare lipstick?'  


'I found this in Elsie Patrick's locker, Watson, what does it suggest to you?'  
Watson examined the scrap of paper that his friend thrust at him as they stalked purposely through the corridor.   
'It's a piece of paper, Holmes, with the school header.'  
'Yes, but what does that tell us, Watson?' Holmes paused as they reached the doors to the Boys toilets. 'You see, but you do not, um, thingy...'  


Holmes craned his arm awkwardly around the edge of the cistern and withdrew two cigarettes bundled in paper towels. 'Are you keeping look out?' He hissed. 'Watson?'  
'All clear, Holmes.'  
The sound of a lighter being sparked up came from within the cubicle. 'So, Watson, any conclusions from the mysterious letterhead? It is implicative is it not?' A wisp of smoke began to curl over the door.  
'Maybe she got a letter home?' Watson pondered, keeping an ear out for the footsteps of any approaching teacher. 'Remember when I got that letter home and we...'  
'It was blank Watson, I think we can discount that hypothesis.' Holmes folded his legs beneath him, and perched on the seat like the youthful chief of some lavatorially obsessed tribe. 'I shall have to think.'  
Watson yawned, and sought distraction in the graffiti covered wall before him. He raised an eyebrow. 'Holmes?'  
'Hhm?'  
'Do you think this is true about Kitty De-'  
'Really Watson,' Holmes peered down over the top of the cubicle. 'Think! If it was, surely she'd walk with a limp.'  
'I s'pose so - Holmes do you think ARGH!' Watson yelled as the door burst open. 'GIRLIN THEBOGS! GIRL, INNA TOILETS! ACK! HOLMES!'  
'Oh grow up.' Russell sniffed dissmissively. 'You've nothing I haven't seen before.'  
'Toilets...Boys...Girls...' Stammered Watson. 'Girls...'  
'Ooh.' Ronnie exclaimed. 'Doesn't it pong in here?'  
'Girls...Toilets...'  
'Hey.' Mary Morstan waved over her classmate's shoulder. 'Watcha' Jim.'  
'I...Girls...Toilets...Boys...Jim?'  
' 'llo J'n'  
Watson goggled at the four girls as they crowded the doorway. 'Holmes?' He called nervously. 'Have you finished your fag yet?'  
'YOU BOY!' Moran's enraged head appeared suddenly above the quartet of females. 'I should have known you'd be at the bottom of this!'  


A thin layer of dust and despair coated the furnishings of the Headmasters office. Half-filled forms and foxed, coffee stained, folders filled every available inch of shelving space. An optimistic degree hung in lonely regret upon the wall. Bleached by daily sunshine from the gap between the broken blinds on the window, it counted the days until it's shady retirement in the front room of a bungalow somewhere on the south coast.  
On the battered and bulky desk which claimed almost all of the available floorspace, a half dozen chewed and broken pens stood, half-heartedly crammed into a mug which proclaimed it's owner, despite all evidence to the contrary, to be the 'World's best teacher.'  
Mr Lestrade [headmaster] sighed mournfully and perched on the edge of his desk. He wrung his hands miserably, and looked up. 'Is it because you aren't getting enough attention?'  
Holmes, Russell, Watson, Morstan, Beaconsfield and Hunter cringed.  


'Hormones!' Moran growled as he entered the staff room, a somewhat unconventional greeting at any social gathering. 'The bloody place is soggy with 'em.'  
'Oh.' Anna Coram [Modern languages and Social studies] looked up from her marking. 'Not Harriet Doran and that awful Moulton boy again?'  
'Gods, are they still at it?' Moran shuddered and began to brew a pot of tea. 'No, no,' He poured out two cups and passed one to his colleague, 'You'll never guess who I just found _clustered_ in the fifth year toilets...' He let himself fall into the nearest armchair, scowling grimly. 'Revolting I call it....'  


'Well?' Mr Lestrade looked out from under weary, heavy lidded eyes. 'Do you want to tell me what all this is about?'  
Holmes and Watson stared across at their Headmaster. 'Wewerejustintheloosandsuddenlysheburstinforabsolutelynoreasonand-'  
'-wejustwantedtohaveawordwithHolmesisallhedoesn'thavetobesuchaplankaboutit.' Finished Russell.  
Lestrade blinked. 'Miss Morstan? Would you care to translate?'  
Mary Morstan cleared her throat. 'I think,' she smiled politely, 'That perhaps Russell was lost, and wandered into the wrong toilets, because of being new and all.'  
'I-'Russell opened her mouth and found herself distracted by the pressure of Morstan's foot bearing down upon her own.  
'Because of being new.' Repeated Morstan. 'And that would explain why Vi and I followed her in there. Because we wanted to tell her she was lost.'  
'That would explain it, wouldn't it.' Mr Lestrade peered down at the new girl. 'She is new.'  
Morstan grinned. 'And we are helpful.'  
'Um, yes, of course...' Lestrade pinched the bridge of his nose wearily. 'Holmes, do you think that if I were to give you some kind of responsibility you could allow a day to go by without my seeing your face?'  
'Uh,' Holmes froze, 'Sir-I-I don't think-'  
'Nonsense,' Lestrade rubbed his hands together and rose to his feet. 'I'll tell you what Holmes. It can be your job to show young Mary here around - '  
The pair glared at each other in abject disgust.  
'Maybe you can pop round to her house after school and go through the timetable with her, no, no, don't worry,' Lestrade waved his young charges out of his office, 'I'll phone your parents and tell them where you are, run along now...' And then he smiled. Because even a headmaster needs a laugh now and again.  


'Watson?' Holmes stood outside the office door. 'I've never hit a girl.'  
'One of your more redeeming qualities, Holmes.'  
'Do you think that if I gave Monkey girl a tenner she'd give that, _thing_, a good hard kick up the arse for me?'  
Wastson stared at his shoes 'Prob'ly not.' He mumbled.  
'No.' Holmes twitched. 'Didn't think so...'  


'Patrick?' Russell called out as she dumped her muddy school shoes at the kitchen door and flung her blazer across a nearby chair. 'Anyone? Anybody ho-ome?' She turned back to the kitchen doorway with distaste. 'Come on. There's no-one -'  
'Mary? Is that you, back from school?' Patrick rounded the corner wiping his hands with a dishcloth. 'Oh, you've a friend with you, Mary, and on your first day too!'  
'S' Patrick.' Russell gestured awkwardly in the direction of her employee. 'He works here.' She flipped a hand towards Holmes. 'S' Sherlock,' she mumbled, 'we're going to study.'  
'Well isn't that just dandy,' Patrick beamed. 'Always got her nose in a book, eh,' He paused to ruffle Mary's hair as he left the room, 'our little Hermione.'   
Holmes snorted and raised an eyebrow. '_'Our little,'_'  
'sh't'p!'   
'No, no,' Holmes suppressed a smile, 'I think it's a perfectly charming-'  
'I was nine years old!' Russell blushed. 'It was a very popular book!'  
'Indeed, who hasn't at some time wished they were a...' Holmes sniggered, '_wizard....'_  
'sh't'p! sh't'p! sh't'p! sh't'p! sh't'p!'

**To be continued - silly mood and general insomnia induced idiocy permitting of course... **


End file.
